


Between You And Me

by A_nonnie_mouse



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: A Job Gone Wrong, Bisexuality, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, M/M, Not much of a plot, One Shot, Pining, Pre-Canon, Whump, someone has a crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_nonnie_mouse/pseuds/A_nonnie_mouse
Summary: “What do I do?” Jesper had caught him by the shoulders before he could fall. “What do I do?” For a moment, Kaz’s dark brown eyes went wide, his brows pulled up, and to Jesper, he looked -- scared? And that was more horrifying than anything that had happened yet.“Get,” Kaz had breathed, “your hands – off – m--”And then he’d fainted.Jesper plans to stop taking these jobs once his debts are paid off. But, these days, life without Kaz Brekker is becoming harder to imagine.
Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Jesper Fahey
Comments: 16
Kudos: 108





	Between You And Me

Jesper’s feet pounded the cobblestones, his labored breathing filling his head. He was sweating bullets beneath the dead weight slung over his shoulder – his collar and his pits were already soaked through. It was embarrassing how a few months of pencil-pushing at university had hacked away at his endurance. He was going to have to make up for that if he was going to keep pulling off these jobs for Kaz Brekker.

_If Kaz Brekker was going to survive the night._

Jesper shook the thought out of his head and adjusted the limp body over his shoulder. He was going to pretend it was a sack of potatoes or a too-full school bag and not a 16-year-old boy’s body maybe bleeding out all over him.

His lungs were burning. He just needed to get Kaz back to The Slat. Haskell would have men there who would know what to do. Probably.

He felt like his knees were going to give out. How had this gone so horribly wrong? It was supposed to have been a simple drop – a brief exchange of kruge for information. Kaz had even not pulled the Wraith off her current assignment – he’d only brought Jesper for back-up. It was not supposed to have turned into a brawl.

 _“No dice, kid.”_ In his mind’s eye, Jesper could still see the cruel, yellowing smile of the turncoat Blacktip, his teeth grinning around the stub of a cigarette. _“My price is much steeper if it’s intel on Rollins you’re after.”_

 _“We had a deal.”_ Kaz’s rasp had been like flint on tinder. Jesper’s fingers had lingered at the pistol on his hip.

The Blacktip had laughed. Jesper could have warned him how terribly thin the ice was on which he now stood.

 _“A deal?_ ” The Blacktip barked. “ _What are you, twelve? Something tells me this isn’t exactly going down with Haskell’s knowledge. If you’re wanting to make deals like men, start putting up real money.”_

Kaz had cocked his head to the side. Just considering the man from his beat up bowler hat down to his scuffed, patent-leather shoes. Jesper had seen feral barn cats do the same thing before they played with their kill. He’d waited, breathless, for Kaz’s orders.

They never came.

Before either of them had moved, they were suddenly surrounded on all sides by Blacktips. Rough hands seized at their arms, at the napes of their coats. And the cruel, yellowing smile in front of them spread.

 _“Haskell doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”_ the gangster had cackled. _“How much do you think he’ll pay to have you back?”_

Jesper wasn’t going to wait to find out. (He knew the truth – Haskell wouldn’t be interested in paying until the Blacktips started removing appendages.)

He’d acted without thinking. Rammed his heel into a set of shins. Slammed his elbow deep into someone’s gut. Grabbed for his pistols and swirled.

Kaz was wielding his cane, its crow’s head hefty like a hammer, smashing into skulls. Jesper fired off a warning shot. No one backed down. He took aim again.

Gunpowder. The glint of a knife. Echoes of shouts through the alley. There was a blur of fists and blood, and several minutes later, a circle of bodies lay around them. And then there was only Jesper and Kaz, back to back, weapons still drawn and breathing hard.

Jesper had had only a moment of relief before Kaz stumbled forward and dropped to a knee.

And he was pressing a hand hard against a stab wound to his torso. In the lamplight, Jesper could see the black wool of his coat growing wet around his leather glove.

 _“What do I do?”_ Jesper had caught him by the shoulders before he could fall. _“What do I do?_ ” For a moment, Kaz’s dark brown eyes went wide, his brows pulled up, and to Jesper, he looked -- _scared?_ And that was more horrifying than anything that had happened yet.

 _“Get,”_ Kaz had breathed, _“your hands – off – m--”_

And then he’d fainted.

 _This is fine. This happens. This is fine. This happens._ Jesper was trying not to panic.

He just needed to get him back to The Slat. Haskell could do something. Haskell _would_ do something. This was Kaz, his lieutenant, his right hand. He wouldn’t stand for this.

His legs felt like jelly. He just had to make it back to The—

“Jes…” Over his right ear, Jesper heard Kaz’s raspy croak, and what his heart did at the sound almost took him down. It was like someone had reached into his chest and given the muscle a hard wrench.

“Almost there, Brekker,” he said. “Hang on.”

“Jes.” Kaz’s words were methodical even then, even while flopping around like the prize catch of the day over a fisherman’s shoulder. “Put. Me. Down.”

Jesper had learned enough about Kaz Brekker by then to know even his contradictory instructions should be considered. So, even though his gut was screaming at him to get this boy home _now_ , he stopped. Drew in some deep breaths, trying to catch his own. Then lowered Kaz to the pavement.

Kaz dropped hard, then inched back so he could prop himself up against the brick wall of the alley. His hand was still pressed to the inside of his coat as his head lolled back, leveling a glare up at Jesper through his disheveled black hair. Jesper was relieved to see he wasn’t looking quite so pale as before.

_No one should be that pretty when they’re bleeding out and furious._

“You touch me again,” Kaz sounded winded, “and I will kill you.”

There’d been a time not so long ago Jesper might have believed him. But tonight, he had his fists balled at his waist like it would help him gulp down much-needed air, and still he couldn't help but laugh.

“Good luck with that,” he said. “Maybe you should work on being vertical first.”

“Fuck you,” Kaz groaned, closing his eyes with a wince.

“ _Or_ , how about – ‘Thank you, Jesper, for saving my ass and for carrying me a thousand miles, especially since I’m weirdly as heavy as a newborn heifer.’”

“A newborn?” Kaz slit his eyes up at him. “Why a newborn? That’s a little emasculating.”

“I don’t know – they’re your words, not mine.”

Kaz huffed a laugh and then promptly groaned again, pressing the hand tighter against himself.

“Inej is going to kill me,” he muttered to himself.

It wasn’t supposed to sting when Kaz talked about girls. (But Kaz never talked about girls. Never looked at girls. Didn’t seem to care at all about girls. Which meant, maybe… _maybe…_ ) Jesper sort of wished there was another Blacktip around to spare a knife and stab these stupid thoughts out of his brain.

But then he remembered something else. Something that Blacktip had said.

“Forget Inej,” he said, crossing his arms. “Let’s talk about Haskell. Did he not know you were doing this? Where does he think we are tonight?”

Kaz gave a pained, rueful laugh.

“What _does_ Haskell know would be a shorter conversation,” he rasped. “Haskell doesn’t give a shit about how I conduct my business. So long as I’m bringing him more kruge.”

 _My business?_ Jesper frowned. He’d always seen The Dregs as soldiers of Per Haskell. They were fists doing the fighting for old men in the streets. What kind of business could a kid have with a man like Pekka Rollins?

Some days it was like he didn’t know Kaz Brekker at all.

“If Haskell doesn’t know what you’re up to, he can’t protect you,” and Kaz laughed again when Jesper said it, which was even more infuriating. He pushed harder, squatting in front of Kaz to get at eye level. “I thought the whole point of this gang shit was to have each other’s backs. That could have gone very differently just now, and there’d have been no one to come for us--”

“No one _is ever_ coming for us.”

It was starting to rain. Of course it was starting to rain. Jesper blinked back the droplets from his lashes, for the moment stunned by the vehemence in Kaz’s harsh voice. When he glared at Jesper, Kaz almost looked like could start spitting venom.

“I don’t know what you were expecting when you took this job,” he said. “This isn’t some family business where we give each other birthday cakes and presents on holidays. If you fuck up a job, there is no one coming for you.”

For a moment, Jesper let the weight of this wash over him with the rain. If his father only knew how far he’d fallen…

_This is just until your debts are paid._

But it was getting harder to tell himself that these days. Kaz Brekker wielded a king-like kind of enigma that was hard to look away from once you got a taste of its power. And these days, Jesper wanted more than just a look, just a taste. He wanted…he wanted…

He closed his eyes, releasing a sigh and whatever he was about to think along with it.

“Brekker,” he said, trying to find the punchline again, “it sounds like you’re admitting that you’ve fucked up this job.”

Kaz rolled his eyes at him.

“No, I definitely meant to get stabbed. That was all part of the grand scheme.” And then he looked away to mutter, “You stupid podge,” and began to shift his body around in what looked to be a sad attempt to stand again.

“You’ve got a real funny way of showing gratitude.” Jesper would offer him a hand in a minute. This was amusing.

“My dearest Jesper,” Kaz said with a sneer, “however will I repay you for getting me stabbed?”

“You are cranky when you’re bleeding!” Jesper observed, suppressing a grin. “Do you want help up or are you just going to roll around like a worm? I’m good with whatever you decide.”

Kaz sighed the heavy sigh of a much older man.

“A hand,” he said, finally.

Jesper clasped his palm to Kaz’s leather glove and, with one hand wedged up under his armpit, hoisted the Bastard of the Barrel to his feet with a groan. Made sure he could remain steady. Made sure he had a decent grip on his cane.

Then they turned their slow, careful steps back to The Slat as the rain fell harder.

“Stop fussing,” Kaz grumbled, batting Jesper back with a glare and an elbow.

Jesper rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. No touching.” He glanced at the boy sidelong, his face grim and determined against the pain. “So, is it like a religious thing or something?”

Kaz looked at him like he was growing tentacles out of his ears.

“What?”

“The only time you’re ever jumpy is if people are going to touch you. Best I can figure that means you’re either a secret nun or someone fucked you up pretty bad. But I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to talk about that, though, so is it a religious thing?”

Kaz gave a grim huff through his nostrils. Shot him a weighted glance out of the corner of his eyes.

“You caught me. I am actually a nun. Out here on the streets, converting all you sinners.”

“And doing a piss-poor job of it, I must tell you.”

“Ah.” Jesper couldn’t tell if Kaz was wincing or waxing poetic. “You’re just making assumptions about which god I worship.”

“A fair point. Hey,” and Jesper made sure to hold out a hand away from Kaz’s body to stop him, “what if I went on ahead and brought back a medik to you? Your wobbles are scaring me.”

“I am not _wobbling_.” Kaz said the word like it tasted bad.

“You’re wobbling a little. You’re wobbling a lot. Hey, don’t give me that look – it is not my fault you’re wobbling.”

“Stop saying ‘wobble.’ It makes less sense every time you do.”

Jesper had to bite his own lips to will himself to keep from saying wobble one more time. Really, Kaz’s gait seemed a little more firm every time he teased him. If his goading could fuel Kaz all the way back to The Slat, it would be worth every contempt-filled glance. Which, quite frankly, Jesper didn’t hate. Goading Kaz was its own kind of fuel.

_You are getting dangerously close to flirting with gang boss, Fahey. Keep your head on straight._

(No part of Jesper had ever been on straight.)

The Slat was only two blocks away now. Kaz was grunting every time he set down his bad leg, and they were both soaked in rain to the skin. It would have been easy, Jesper realized, to just run on ahead. Maybe someone could bring a stretcher. Maybe someone had something for the pain.

It was killing him to see Kaz in pain.

“We should cut across through the next alley,” Kaz was saying, his voice strained. “Go in through the back. Shouldn’t attract attention.”

“Brekker,” said Jesper, wishing there was some way to make a joke out of this, “you need attention. All right? We should be taking the quickest way back.”

“No.” Kaz was shaking his head as he grit his teeth. “Haskell shouldn’t know. Shouldn’t see. No one should see.”

“Kaz--”

“ _Listen_ to me.” Kaz turned on him savagely then, feral in the midst of the pain. “I am still in charge here. I am still the one who hired you. And that’s working out well for you, isn’t it? You like the cuts you’re getting? You’re getting them because of _me._ But I can make no guarantees about your future if I turn up there tonight looking like some lowlife runner got the best of me. There isn’t a gang in Ketterdam that looks kindly on that kind of weakness. Are you following me? What happened tonight stays between you and me.”

The rain dribbled off the tile roofs, collecting in puddles around their shoes. Jesper wasn’t sure why he was shivering.

“I follow you,” he said.

So, they cut through the alley, darker and deeper into the veins of Ketterdam. Jesper couldn’t think of jokes anymore. Couldn’t think past the painful breathing next to him. That leather gloved hand pressing against blood-soaked wool. Something in him was screaming at him – This wasn’t even the beginning of how dark the Dregs could be.

_If your father could see you now…_

There was a stoop at the back door of The Slat, underneath a little awning. And that’s where Kaz dropped with a grunt when they’d finally made it. Like he wasn’t going to take one more step.

Jesper huddled beneath the awning, wrapping his arms around himself. The night was darker than any he could remember.

“Can I get Inej at least?” he asked. Kaz was doubled over his gut, one hand in his hair.

“She’s not here,” Kaz replied. “Surveillance at the docks.”

“Right.”

So Jesper slipped into The Slat alone. And returned with a few kitchen supplies he could scrounge up – some rags, some soap, some clean water in a wooden bowl.

Then he sat next to Kaz on the stoop. Brekker was breathing hard through his nose, his jaw clenched tightly. Steeling himself, Jesper realized.

They hadn’t talked at all about what to do once they got to this point. It had been all jokes and snark and light threatening, but now… Jesper was painfully aware of how little he knew Kaz Brekker, really. He’d hired him for jobs, had trusted him with a few gang secrets. But Jesper only knew of Kaz what the bastard wanted him to see – namely, his scary (attractive) face only. ( _Don’t think about his attractive face, Fahey, what the hell.)_

Beside him, Kaz swallowed. Then slowly moved to unbutton his coat.

Jesper stared down at the wooden bowl in his lap, focusing on his own hands.

But Kaz drew in a sharp breath through his teeth, and Jesper couldn’t stop himself from looking over.

Kaz’s white button-down was open wide – blood-red all across the middle. The hard planes of his chest heaved while he peeled back the blood-soaked fabric stuck to his pale skin, his stomach muscles contracting. The stab wound was higher than his navel, off to the far left -- a blackish, thin line, seeping scarlet. It didn’t seem too deep at least – Jesper was trying to focus on that innocuous fact.

“Here.” Without thinking, Jesper had picked up the clean rag. Reached out for the fabric of Kaz’s shirt.

“Don’t--”

“I know, I know. Don’t touch. I got it.”

And maybe he felt reassured or maybe he was just too tired, but Kaz seemed to relinquish then. He slouched to one side, holding his shirt open, looking away.

And Jesper, gently, softly, cleared away the blood.

There was only the sound of the rain then, and sometimes Kaz’s stifled wincing.

“Sorry,” Jesper would apologize at the sound.

“’S fine.”

And that was all they would say.

Jesper was trying so hard to not touch Kaz’s skin, his own dark fingers started to shake. And that just made him mad at himself – shaking over blood. Shaking over a _boy._ Jesper clenched his jaw, hard, and tried to think of boring things to distract himself.

But it didn’t work. Because there was literally nothing boring when you were around Kaz Brekker. Ever.

_You’ve got a serious problem, Fahey – you know that, right?_

He had to move to stand in front of Kaz to wrap the bandage around his torso. Kaz lifted his arms a little while Jesper worked and focused his attention on the stones of the stoop, collecting rain. When Jesper did glance at him, his forehead was collecting sweat, the furrows across it deeper than any 16-year-old’s forehead had the right to be.

“Sorry,” again.

“’S fine.”

Nothing about it felt fine. It felt far too real. Far too visceral. It felt like the last time Kaz was ever going to look Jesper in the eyes. It felt like Jesper was never going to be hired again.

It felt like he had something to lose.

When Jesper had finished wrapping the bandage, he stepped back into the rain, unsure of what to do from here. Kaz closed up his coat again, pressing a hand back over the site of the wound.

This would be the telling moment, Jesper realized. Kaz could tell him to get lost. Or thank him. And Kaz Brekker wasn’t known for thanking.

_This is going to be over before it even starts…_

Kaz sighed one last time. Drew himself up to stand on the stoop, now a few inches taller than Jesper because of it. He looked wan and pained, and Jesper wasn’t sure how to look at him.

“Think you can help me burn this shirt tomorrow?” he asked Jesper.

Jesper breathed out, surprised. Relieved. _Tomorrow,_ he’d said. With that, he’d made up his mind to forget Kaz’s personal business with Pekka Rollins, with whatever strange vendetta had led them to this moment.

Kaz Brekker still wanted to keep him around. That was enough.

“Yeah, sure,” Jesper agreed, with a casual shrug. “Whatever you need.”

Kaz nodded and turned to limp up the steps. But he turned at the door.

“Are you coming or what?” he barked back at Jesper.

Only then did Jesper relax. And smile to himself. And followed him inside.

**Author's Note:**

> More of my writing is in my tumblr - [@anonniemousefics](https://anonniemousefics.tumblr.com)


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